William Shakespeare Quotes
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What a deformed thief this fashion is.
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Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.
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All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown. Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
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Maids want nothing but husbands, and when they have them, they want everything.
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The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.
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RUMOUR: "Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
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There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. There's fennel for you, and columbines: — there 's rue for you; and here's some for me: — we may call it, herb of grace o'Sundays: — you may wear your rue with a difference. — There's a daisy: — I would give you some violets; but they withered all, when my father died: — They say, he made a good end.
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Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.
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A wicked conscience mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
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Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
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Where is Polonius? HAMLET In heaven. Send hither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But if indeed you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.
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I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
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Be as just and gracious unto me, As I am confident and kind to thee.
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Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom!
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Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
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where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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Jesters do oft prove prophets.
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From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world.
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He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat.
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A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.
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Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
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Love's stories written in love's richest books. To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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A sympathy in choice.